Saving You, Saving Me
by Writer-Monkey-Esq
Summary: Ziva was in serious trouble, but Tony was just in time... what happens next? Deals with the aftermath. Becomes Tiva in later chapters. Rated T for safety. My first fic - please review.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing, et cetera continuum ad infinitum...  
1. My spelling is Australian/British-English NOT American-English.  
2. Chapters will be short, but that should mean more, sooner :D  
3. This is my first fic - I won't ask you to be _too_ gentle, but please take it into consideration...**

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An undercover operation had ended badly.

Very badly.

And Ziva had taken its full fury head-on. When Tony found her, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, eyes glazing over.

He didn't have time to think or feel – only to function.

He watched in a daze as his fingers dialled 9-1-1, words tumbling from his mouth of their own volition. He knelt by her side for seemed to be an eternity, applying pressure to the ugly hole in her chest, praying and waiting anxiously for her next shallow breath.

Tony didn't notice the biting cold, or the falling snow.

All he felt was the warm, red slick beneath his hands. It just didn't seem to stop... her life was flowing out onto the ground, slipping through his fingers.

God knew just how helpless he felt.

An ambulance siren sounded in the distance, cutting through the chaos in his mind.

Relief shot through him – help was at hand. She could make it – they could make it. Tears stung his eyes, threatening to fall, but he blinked them away.

The siren drew closer.

_Focus - I need to focus, I need to focus... I need- I need you to hold on, Ziva... they're nearly here..._

Paramedics were kneeling beside him now. White gloved hands replaced his, moving with life-saving precision. He heard a voice, felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, son... she's in good hands." But Tony hardly heard. His were fixed on his partner's face. She was so still, her olive skin so pale. Almost as pale as Abby's.

_But not grey. Not like Kate. Not yet. Not ever._

He watched in a daze as they placed her onto the stretcher. She looked so fragile, so delicate. It hardly seemed real. The younger paramedic, a woman, shook him by the shoulders.

"Hey – you coming?"

Tony felt himself nodding as she helped him to his feet.

_I have to look after her. I have to make sure she's safe. _

_

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**A/N: Now you've read, please review :D I know that you know that you want to... *uses epic mind-reading ninja skills***


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing, etc cetera continuum ad inifinitum**...  
**Thanks for the reviews, guys - more than I expected in such a short space of time. You've convinced me to post the next chapter, a little ahead of schedule :D Enjoy!**

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The bullpen had been empty for hours. The flow of agents leaving for the night had slowed to a trickle. Only a few remained.

One of the few: Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He sat at his desk, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The paperwork scattered before him was untouched, his mind elsewhere.

He knew what had happened to Ziva. He knew all about it. The looks on their faces had said far more than their words.

...So why was he still here? He wasn't so sure himself.

He had been told to expect a call, he assumed from Director David. But it was closing in on midnight, and still not a peep. Surely he must've heard about his daughter by now.

Hell – that man made him fume. Sure, he did his job, but he was cold – very cold.

The phone rang.

"Yeah." There was a pause on the other end.

"Hello? Is this... Mr. Gibbs?" The voice was hesitant and decidedly un-Israeli. This was not the call he had been expecting.

"Uh-huh."

"This is Dr. Jackson,"-another pause-"...were you aware that Ms. David has awarded you the power of attorney?"-Gibbs wasn't-"... I know this is unusual – normally we would expect this to be given a family member or a 'significant other'... but it is _your_ name on the paper, no one else."

_Not even her father, the bastard – his daughter would rather put her life in my hands rather than his._

"And?"

"Ms. David, well... her condition is critical, to say the least – it's touch and go. If _anything_ should happen... should she slip into a coma or, God forbid, become brain dead, it would be your call. You know... whether to pull the plug or not." Silence. "All things considered, you should start thinking about this very, _very_ carefully."

"Understood."

"Great – thank you Mr. Gibbs."

The line went dead. He sat there for a second longer, stock still, and swore under his breath. Expected phone call or not, he wouldn't be waiting here any longer.

His girl needed him.

Director David could either go to Voicemail or go to hell.

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**A/N: Please review and make my day :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing, I only wish I did...  
This was a little rushed, hope it's okay :D Enjoy!  
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Jethro had to keep himself from running down the corridor.

As he rounded the corner, the sight he beheld stopped him cold... He'd known to expect it, but actually seeing it?

Seeing it was excruciating.

Abby crying, McGee ashen faced. But DiNozzo... DiNozzo looked like he'd been crushed.

A mere shadow of the man he'd been that morning.

The last time he'd seen them like this was when, well...

_When Kate was shot._

The memory was a dark one. Like a cold hand around his heart.

He began to fear the worst, but Abby saw him first.

"Gibbs!"

She threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. Snapped from his reverie, he staggered under the impact.

"Where-were-you?-It's-so-late-and-you-said-you'd-be-here-soon-and-she's-been-in-surgery-for-hours-and-and..."

She trailed off and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'm so worried."

"I know Abs, I know."

He was worried too.

Breaking away from her embrace, he walked over to the rest of his team.

"McGee."

He sat down next to his senior agent.

"DiNozzo."

He locked eyes with the younger man.

_What happened? How is she?_

He watched the emotions that flashed across DiNozzo's face as he searched for the words that would answer the unspoken questions.

McGee took his cue and ushered Abby away for some more coffee.

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Tony leaned back into the hospital chair, struggling for control.

How could he describe what he had seen without breaking down?

"It... looked like that... that **_bastard_** had taken to her with a crow-bar... before he shot her in the chest."

_Point blank._

"I could've stopped it... I –I should've stopped him."

Visions of red blood and broken flesh swam before his mind's eye.

Guilt cut deep – it was pure and unadulterated, like a knife in his stomach.

He would never forget what he saw.

Ever.

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**Go ahead. Make my day. Review :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing... except for this lady-doctor :D**

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Gibbs excused himself for coffee.

As he pushed through the swinging doors at the end of the corridor, he ran into a young doctor.

He read her name badge.

_Dr. Jackson. The one who made the phone call.  
_

She flushed slightly,

"I'm so sorry - I need to watch where I'm going."

Her voice sounded different in person.

"Don't apologise... It's okay." he held out a hand "Agent Gibbs."

"Wow - I'm glad you're here."

_Firm handshake. A good sign._

She fell silent and looked away. Her smiled faded.

He followed her gaze.

It rested on the broken NCIS Agent hunched over in his chair.

"He blames himself?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he shouldn't"

"He's convinced that he arrived too late."

Her expression was one of disbelief.

"I've been talking to the paramedics that brought her in. From what I hear – if anything – he got there just in time. Had he arrived minutes... seconds... later than he did..." brown eyes locked with blue, "Your friend would've been DOA."

How could three little letters be so chilling?

_Dead. On. Arrival._

A light hand touched his arm.

"He saved her life. Agent Gibbs? I think you may have a hero on your hands."

He gave her a half-smile.

"I always did."

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**Please Review :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, zero, zip... I think you get the picture :D  
This chapter is due in part to Zivarocks44 :D Thanks for feedback/suggestions.**

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He sat alone in the basement, woodworking tools untouched.

The world had seemed to slow down. That was the half-bottle of bourbon taking effect.

But the warmth in his stomach couldn't thaw the ice in his heart. Three small words ran through his mind, over and over.

_Dead. On. Arrival.  
_

His conversation with the doctor had shaken him. True, she'd nearly died, but DiNozzo was not the one to blame.

He was.

DiNozzo was the one that had saved her life.

DiNozzo wasn't the one that had nearly taken it from her.

He was.

He had so wanted to catch that bastard. He'd wanted it so bad he could taste it.

He'd wanted it so bad that he'd ignored his gut.

And now Ziva had borne the brunt of his mistake.

A memory floated vividly before his eyes.

_She'd come to the basement. To give him a Buck Morris chisel. To say 'thank you'. _

_He'd accused her. Of betraying his trust. Of misleading him. _

_Something had flashed in her eyes. Something that went deeper than he'd expected it to._

_She'd said that he was the closest thing she had to a father._

_He hadn't been sure whether or not to believe her._

He believed her now. She'd trusted him with her life.

Now he was the one that had betrayed her.

Because really, he was no better than Eli David.

It didn't matter whether she'd nearly died in Somalia or Washington DC.

It really made no difference.

It had happened because the men who were her father-figures had gambled with her life.

It happened because he'd failed her.

_I failed Shannon. I failed Kelly. I failed Kate. I failed Jenny. And now I've failed Ziva._

He hung his head in his hands. His shoulders shook, but he wouldn't let the tears fall.

_Not yet. Not ever._

_

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**Please make my day :D Review!  
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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing, et cetera continuum ad infinitum... ****  
1. A lot more dialogue in this one, I hope it's believable [and not too long]  
2. Again - spelling is Australian/British-English  
3. I'm not a doctor, so my knowledge has been limited to what Wikipedia +Google have to offer :D  
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The sterile white halls glistened under the bright lights.

It was late. An older gentleman walked slowly down towards the elevator, hat in hand. A young, female doctor turned out of a non-descript doorway and called after him.

"Doctor Mallard!" He turned wearily.

"I do believe that is my name." She neared him and hesitated.

"I was wanting to speak to you... but now I'm not so sure it's a good time." He sighed.

"There's no time like the present, Doctor."

"There's a favour I'd like to ask of you."

"And?"

"I've just come from a meeting with the surgeons who operated on Ms. David. They've given their prognosis..."

"Exactly how bad is it?" She paused.

"...Bad." Her hesitance spoke more than a million words. His eyes filled with tears he wouldn't cry. Not just yet, anyway.

"I feared as much."

"Doctor Mallard... I- I'm just a stranger. News like this shouldn't come from someone like me." He smiled softly, appreciating her compassion. "I feel it would be better coming from someone known, someone trusted... someone more like..."

"Me?"

She nodded. Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, they walked over to a bench and sat down.

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

The young doctor opened her mouth, as if to speak, only to close it again. Where were the words that would make this easier to take? Doctor Mallard placed his hand on hers,

"It's alright, my dear. I'm not a _young_ man – I've heard bad news before."

"Does it become any easier?" He sighed,

"No. I can't say that it does – it's only a little more expected." They fell into silence, both staring out into space. After a moment, she began to speak, her voice low and soft, lacking all inflection.

"She's in a coma, but we're in no hurry for her to wake up. She needs this time to heal. Her skull was fractured and her is badly swollen. We're concerned about her memory, vision and motor control, but we'll be running more scans in the next few days. Her spinal cord hasn't been severed, thank God, but it's badly bruised. The bullet wound to her chest missed her aorta by a fraction of an inch – it punctured her lung and caused it to collapse instead. She'll be able to function with her remaining kidney, and her liver will regrow. The right femur was badly broken – it's a miracle that we didn't have to amputate."

He gave out a shuddering sigh. The light in his eyes seems to fade a little. She placed her hand on his. They sat in silence a moment longer, the midnight noises of the hospital echoing down the hallway.

"I'm sorry."

He looked up at her, his face lined with sorrow.

"I know."

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**Please review - you'd make my day :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I own nothing... still  
1. I may have edited this chapter to death... I hope it's par for the course :D Enjoy **

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As she walked down the hall, Doctor Mallard at her side, Dr Katherine Jackson mentally repeated her mantra, trying desperately to calm her nerves.

_I am a doctor. _

_I am a professional. _

_I will be objective._

_This is just another case._

_This is just another patient._

But, for the first time in years, it wasn't working.

_Damn._

The Chief of Medicine had told her repeatedly that she was too soft-hearted for her own good. God, how she wished he was wrong.

Because this _wasn't_ just another case. It _wasn't_ just another patient.

It was somehow... closer, more personal.

The three people that she now approached had been waiting in the hallway for hours - through the night, and into the wee hours of the morning.

They weren't just co-workers... they were more like...

_A family._

She couldn't help but wonder if the people she knew would do the same for her.

_Probably not._

She looked across at the ME at her side. His small nod boosted her flailing confidence.

This was never, ever easy.

They stood to their feet as she approached. Their faces so sombre.

_But who can blame them?_

"Your friend is out of surgery," she started, "She's been stabilised – the worst is over."

_Liar._

"We've placed her in a coma; she needs time to recover, so she'll be in ICU for a short time."

_Liar._

She could hear the falseness of her words, and hated herself for it.

She'd rehearsed those two sentences in her mind, over and over, trying to be both optimistic and honest.

Every word may have been technically true, but it didn't make her feel less like a liar.

The Gothic girl threw her arms around the other Agent, crying with relief.

Tony DiNozzo was the only one of the three that continued to look her square in the eye.

_He doesn't believe me either._

He'd seen his partner. He was the only one who'd seen how bad it was.

"But... she will be _okay_, right?"

How could she answer his question?

"_It all depends on your definition of 'okay'"?_

But she couldn't say that.

"We're doing everything we can to make that happen."

Katherine willed him to hear the truth behind her words:

The truth was that she'd live.  
But that she wouldn't be the same as before.

...That she'd wake up.  
But that it'd probably be later rather than sooner.

...That she'd open her eyes.  
But that she might not see again.

...That she'd be with him once more.  
But that she may not remember anything.

He nodded at her words – he seemed to understand.

The world slowed for a second, their eyes still locked.

In the background she could hear Doctor Mallard repeating the words she had relayed to him.

"...Skull fractures... missed the aorta... femur broken..."

But she couldn't look away from the man in front of her.

The brokenness in his eyes confirmed one thing:

_The truth is brutal._

_

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_**A/N: Ziva may have copped the short end of the stick, but, in the words of Hamlet, I'm "being cruel to be kind"... sort of**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: *wishes I did actually own NCIS* *waits for something to happen* *nothing happens* *sighs* oh well...  
1. Sorry it took a little while. Writer's block. Hope it's good. Should get better. Trying to move the action forward.  
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Head swathed in bandages, a large dressing over her abdomen, her right leg in a cast.

She was so still, so small.

Everything in that room was white and clean.

So cold and sterile and... Impersonal.

There were tubes everywhere – down her throat, up her nose, sticking into her arms.

He had stood there for what seemed to be over an hour.

Not speaking, not moving.

He wanted to touch her, hold her hand.

Make sure she was real.

But he was afraid to touch her, as though his touch would shatter her into a million pieces.

But he couldn't leave. Not just yet.

Because he had one question that needed answering:

_Why?_

_...Why Ziva? Of all people? Why not him? Why not anyone else?_

She had already been through too much.

He'd seen the horrors behind her eyes, when she'd thought no one was looking.

_Somalia._

There was a hand on his shoulder.

"You can talk to her, y'know."

_Abby. _

"What am I supposed to say?"-he couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice-" 'Whoops, _sorry_ about that'?"

Her hand that had been on his shoulder quickly slapped him across the back of the head.

_I think deserved that._

"Tony, if you can't be civil, at least ask yourself, W-W-G-D?"

_What **would** Gibbs do?_

That was one question he knew the answer to.

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**A/N: How'd I go?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Disclaimer: Still own nothing...  
1. Another short one. Sorry. I hope the quality is better than the quantity)))**

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Tony drove.

He wasn't sure where he was going. He just drove.

Accelerate. Clutch. Third.

He didn't really need to concentrate.

The vehicles rhythm was soothing. It was familiar.

Abby's words ran through his mind – his contemplation a distraction.

"_...At least ask yourself, WWGD?"_

Accelerate. Clutch. Fourth.

He just made the green light.

_What Would Gibbs Do?_

Tony liked to think he'd learned a thing or two about his boss over the years.

Accelerate. Clutch. Fifth.

The fact he was speeding didn't matter. Speed felt good.

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He'd turned off the main road miles ago.

He didn't realise where he was until he'd pulled to a stop.

It was the place he'd found Ziva.

Stepping out of the car, he slowly walked forwards.

The blood-stain was still clearly visible.

_...the warm, red slick beneath his hands._

He could still feel it.

Tears burned his eyes and bile burned his throat.

Tony shook his head, as though to banish the memory.

_...W.W.G.D?_

His vision cleared.

He sat on his haunches, and looked at the scene through an investigator's eyes.

No longer did his mind's eye see his partner lying there, blood pooling beneath her.

Instead he saw a crime scene.

He saw scuff marks and footprints and blood-spatter and hairs and fibres.

He saw evidence.

_What would Gibbs do?_

He'd catch the bastard.

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**A/N: So... what did you think???**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Disclaimer: Own nothing. Wish I did.  
1. This was done very quickly... hope it's cool :D Mostly a bridging chapter...**

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The ringing phone cut through the fog in Jethro's subconscious.

Part of him knew that it was morning. And that he should be up already.

_...And that consuming that much bourbon was** not** a great idea._

He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't.

It may have had something to do with his pounding headache.

He didn't bother lifting his head from the bench as he slowly he reached over and grabbed the phone.

Flipping it open before it had a chance to ring again, he brought it to his ear.

"Gibbs."

"Jethro." It was Ducky.

"Yeah?"

"DiNozzo's gone."

_...Huh?_

It took a few seconds, but everything came back in a flash.

_Ziva. The phone-call. The hospital. The doctor. The conversation. The guilt. The drinking. _

_Damn._

"Where'd he go?"

There was silence on the other end. It was like he was missing a piece of the puzzle.

"...Jethro,"-he could hear Ducky choosing his words-"That boy is... _**more **_like you than you think."

The ME continued speaking, but he didn't need to hear any more.

He knew.

He knew where Tony was, what he was going to do.

_Hell, I even know what he's thinking._

If DiNozzo was _**anything **_like him... he wouldn't just want revenge.

He'd want blood.

But on this side of the border?

Tony would never get away with it.

_Damn._

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**A/N: Please review :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Disclaimer: Own nothing. If only.  
It's longer, if a little unorthodox :D hope it's okay... still got a way to go.  
**

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He hadn't slept in days.

And he was sure DiNozzo hadn't slept in longer.

Running on nothing but black coffee had taken its' toll.

But, now, he was standing in the Observation Room, looking though the one-way glass.

It had been worth it.

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_He had met DiNozzo coming out of the elevator. He'd known it would be the first place he'd come._

_The light in the younger man's eyes had been hauntingly familiar._

_Almost like looking in a mirror._

_"You come to stop me, **Boss**?"_

_A bitterly sarcastic mirror._

_But he hadn't said a word. Hadn't needed to, really. _

_He had simply looked at him._

_DiNozzo's voice had lowered then, becoming deadly serious.  
_

_"...I've got to do this, Gibbs."_

_"I know."_

_They stood in the elevator together and the door slid shut._

_"But somebody's got to watch your six."_

_

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And he had. He'd watched DiNozzo like a hawk.

With every step of the investigation, every lead, every inquiry, every interrogation, he could sense his growing blood-lust.

Just like a blood-hound that knew his quarry was just around the corner, he'd pulled at his leash, begging to be let loose.

But Gibbs had pulled right back. He could never afford to have his senior agent lose it.

Especially not now they'd got the son of a bitch.

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_"Robert Delaney."_

_The moment Abby had said the name, something snapped._

_His senior agent was a vigilante with a badge, and now he knew the identity of his intended target.._

_DiNozzo had stalked to the elevator, murder written in his eyes._

_The man was dangerous, to h__imself most of all._

_He had pulled on the emergency brake._

_Now was not the time for kid gloves.  
_

_"When we arrest him, you stay behind me."_

_"But Bo-"_

_"-Not a suggestion."_

_He had leveled his gaze at DiNozzo, but there was a new steel in him._

_"You don't understand. You can't take this one away from me - not now..."_

_But he did understand. _

_Better than anyone.  
_

_

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_DiNozzo hadn't listened.

Somehow, he'd never expected him to.

He grimaced - there was a nice set of bruises marking their way down his back.

They matched the one on his jaw.

Unnecessary - but worth it.

DiNozzo wasn't the only one who'd needed to practice restraint.

He'd wanted the bastard to pay as well.

The door opened.

"They're bringing him up."

Gibbs didn't need to turn around to see the look in Tony's eyes.

He was still angry, still vengeful.

But beneath it all, he was still broken.

A feeling that was only too familiar.

_Revenge doesn't satisfy - it doesn't heal._

...This wasn't an ending - only a beginning.

"Good job, DiNozzo."

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**A/N: How's I go? Let me know....  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, if you hadn't already guessed...**

**...I don't know what comas are like - this is a 'best guess' kind of thing. Hope you like :D**

**Oh, and to those who don't know, 'trinitrotoluene' is TNT.  
**

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Ziva David was suspended in a state of limbo.

Everything was dark, and there was no semblance of time.

But there _were _voices.

"_...She seems stable... sutures healing nicely..._"

_**Some were clinical.**_

"_...Ah, you see, my dear, this reminds me of that time in Johannesburg..._ _except with less trinitrotoluene_"

_**And some were familiar.**_

They were like waves, washing over her.

**_It's soothing... a comfortable, blanketing nothingness..._**

There was no pain. No anxiety. No fear. No nothing.

_**Just a haze.**_

...But there was one voice that she couldn't bear to hear.

Just one voice that disrupted the haze.

"_You can't just leave us like this... you should have seen him Ziva..._"

The voice was gravelly, but feminine. It sounded like tears.

"_You have to come back, you have to wake up... He- he loves you..._"

The words were clearer now, cutting through the darkness like a knife.

"_I was so afraid, Ziva... he felt so guilty... I was afraid he'd do something stupid... get himself killed..._"

It seemed so easy to just drift.

"_He'd die for you Ziva..._"

But the voice was so compelling.

"_He saved your life... now I think you need to save his..._"

The selflessness that the voice described was so moving.

"_...Please_."

If the voice had been like a knife, then the sobs that followed were like lightning.

The darkness was illuminated.

She stopped drifting.

Limbo was no longer enough.

She had a debt to repay.

It took tremendous effort, but she did it.

Ziva reached out through the haze... she reached out to the voice.

_**I will repay him.**_

She had only one question:

_**...Who is he?

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**A/N: Okay, so I was going to post this as a separate chapter, but I didn't want this to get repetitive... so I hope it isn't...**

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Gibbs still stood behind the one-way mirror.

Caffeine buzzed through his veins, reinvigorating him.

Feet were firmly planted shoulder width apart.

Hands were clasped behind his back.

He was as at ease as a marine could be.

...If only he could say as much for the Special Agent beyond the glass.

For a second, he'd been tempted to tell the sound technician to stop the recording - to let DiNozzo follow his instinct, instead of the rule-book.

But only for a second, and for not a second more.

_...Because Junior was doing good._

Tony ran through the routine: circling the room, photos spread on the table.

Constantly accusing, constantly intimidating, his voice barely above a growl.

Barely restrained rage permeated the adjacent rooms.

His anger gave him an edge.

Gibbs couldn't help but be impressed.

_He has him right where he wants him..._

His cell rang out in the darkness, distracting him.

He flicked it open.

"Yeah. Gibbs."

He jerked the phone back from his ear, not expecting Abby's high-pitched squeal.

"_Gibbs! It's Ziva! She's responding!_"

_**Click.**_

_**

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**_**A/N: Okayyyyy... so I hope that was all okay with you guys :D**

**Reviews are like marshmallows. Need I say more?  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hey, it's me again. And I know it's been forever, but I promised myself I'd see this through. In the end, it's probably not going to be quite everything I'd wished it to be, but I hope I've retained my style and that it's not too jarring and that you all enjoy this new addition.**

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The voice that came to her bedside sounded grandfatherly to her ear.

_Only that was impossible._

Her mother's father was a Sephardic rabbi. Her father's father was dead.

This man was definitely not dead. And he was _definitely_ not a rabbi.

She was too weak to move, her whole world blanketed in almost absolute darkness.

But this voice… this voice stirred a gentle warmth of affection in her chest.

He would read to her.

Newspapers, novels, poems.

He would tell her stories, and her mouth would slowly curl up into a soft smile.

He visited often, and she was glad of that. The hospital room was too quiet to be alone in.

But today there was only one thing she wanted to hear.

It was something that her mother's father had taught her.

He'd sat her in his lap, his deep voice seeming to rumble throughout the whole universe.

"_Sh'ma."_

Her voice sounded like a stranger's, raspy and thin.

"…Pardon, Ziva?"

"_Sh'ma Yisrael… please."_

The room fell into absolutely silence for a moment and she wondered if he'd understood her request.

She wasn't able to say it herself, not the way she wanted to.

It didn't matter if they were in English and not Hebrew.

She just needed to hear those words.

"Hear, O Israel… The LORD your God…"

A tear sprang to her eye, and trickled down her cheek.

He'd understood.

The words of the ancient prayer washed over her, comforting her.

They felt like home.

They felt like her Abba, and her Mama, and her brother, and her sister.

…She wondered why none of them had come to visit her.

* * *

**A/N: So, as you may have guessed, I've taken Ziva back to before her Mossad days. I'm not going to say too much else at this stage, but that she's a bit softer and sweeter than the team have seen her before. **

**Next chapter may be a little while, but I promise it won't be three years. **

**Promise.**


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